No One
by hawkstout
Summary: A short of The Demon Inside Me Series: Tim knows Bruce is alive, but Dick won't see reason, the only one he seems to see right now is Damian. He offers something Dick won't accept and thinks about Bruce Wayne's legacy.


Another short of the **Demon Inside Me Series**. It can probably be read as a standalone. All you need to know is there's supernatural stuff going on. Dick can interact with Ghosts and is basically monster bait and Tim's a medium. Instead of superheroes they're paranormal investigators.

* * *

Tim had waited.

For a tug or a whisper. For a shadow of movement. If Bruce Wayne was dead he would be in the spirit world. If Bruce Wayne was dead…

He wouldn't have passed on.

Tim sat in the manor, alone.

It had only been the four of them. Bruce, Alfred, Tim and Damian, but it had made the house feel full. And every time Dick had a few days off he would come and visit, any excuse and he would ride five hours, four on his bike to be with them. Even Jason would put in an appearance once a week.

But he was alone now.

He still felt a rush of anxiety, this wasn't supposed to happen, this shouldn't happen. Bruce Wayne had never been a man to be mourned. The family shouldn't fall apart over this. _His_ family shouldn't fall apart over this.

Bruce was mortal yes, but his soul was too strong to just let go.

No, rather his will was too crushing to let go. Bruce Wayne still had work to do and he would never stop until that work was done and that work would never be done and so Bruce Wayne would never be done.

That was the childish notion Tim clung onto in his big empty manor.

When it was announced, when the Superman came with details Dick had fallen to his knees and wept, but Tim only stood still. Tim didn't even frown.

Bruce had left his body, Bruce was gone. He had finally thrown off his humanity, given in and died like every other natural thing on this earth would one day have to. Tim wasn't especially sad because the death of the body wasn't an ending.

So he watched Dick cry. Dick had always been emotional, which was good. Dick kept the others in their family grounded to the physical. He ensured they didn't drift too far into the place beyond reality where it was hard to come back from. He made sure they weren't stuck in their own heads where only rationality and the Code of the Bat ruled. Dick cried while the demon child stared from a dark corner looking slightly unsure and Tim watched, his mind moving furiously, but his body frozen.

They had talked about this eventuality.

* * *

Tim had brought it up because Bruce Wayne kept his ideas in his own head unless it was of defense or necessity. It was a grim October and the wind was sharp. They stood in the small graveyard on the manor grounds. Tim had just ordered spies to watch the Penguin's movements. The demon child was preoccupied by lessons under Alfred's watchful gaze. Work could be done without the threat of him seeing things he shouldn't. Bruce looked as forbidding as the weather. The last few years had put a strain on him: Dick's departure, Jason's death and resurrection, and now the child that could mean the end of them all.

"We deal in death every day Bruce, but what do we really know about it?"

"Very little," Bruce said, "But more than most. What's brought this on?"

"What happens when it ends?"

His mentor looked over silently. He was listening, but the question was in the air. They had worked together long enough that unnecessary things didn't really need to be said. He could tell a 'what do you mean' when he saw one.

"What will you do when you die?"

Bruce instantly caught his meaning.

"You think I have a plan?"

"I know you have a plan."

Bruce looked down at the rows of graves in front of them.

"We don't know what determines afterlife. Deals with demons are the most straightforward. Spirits and ghosts are more complicated. We know nothing about them. We can't communicate with them in a meaningful way."

"Except for Dick."

It would have been a wince from anyone other than Bruce Wayne. "Except for Dick, and we've learned a lot of things from his interactions, but not how someone becomes an entity. They don't know, they say that they died and manifested if they're aware at all. Most times they've been dead too long to remember humanity."

"You have your theories though."

"Everyone does. Willpower, attachment to life."

"I don't know anyone with more will than you Bruce."

Bruce gave one of his quick little smirks, "Heh, you haven't met Hal Jordon."

"What will you do?"

"If possible, continue to go after them."

"Will you make contact? …With us?"

Bruce paused. His eyes shifted to Tim.

"I mean, I wouldn't know you from any other shade without the aid of a megaton of talismans and spells, but with Dick…"

"Yes," He looked uncomfortable for a moment. Perhaps the thought had never occurred to him about keeping in touch with his family after he had cast off his mortal coil, or maybe he thought that no one would ever think of it, that he might be free to wander the spirit world without having those emotional ties.

"Okay," said Tim.

After that he had pulled his mentor in to making plans. Contingencies, ideas but the first step was always the same. If possible Bruce would make contact with Dick.

He never did.

* * *

So Tim was caught in the wheels of his own mind. Bruce hadn't contacted them so Bruce must be alive. He tried to convince Dick of this, but his brother had more than enough on his plate.

"You need to accept that he's gone," Dick said gently. It was before he had left with the demon; before his older brother had abandoned him to haunt this place alone for the sake of the enemy.

Yes, he was a little bitter, what gave it away?

It was a week after the funeral. They weren't in the cave, which, looking back seems strange. They had always used the cave as a place to talk 'business.' It felt wrong without Batman there though. Maybe that's why Dick avoided it. Avoided being what Tim wanted—needed him to be.

"I do accept that he's gone," Tim said in irritation staring at the fire so he didn't have to look at Dick. "Why can't you accept that he's going to come back?"

He didn't have to turn to know the exact way Dick's face fell into frustration and pity.

"Tim, I'll admit I thought that maybe… if anyone could find a way to make contact after death it would be Bruce, but that hasn't happened. We don't know how ghosts work, he might have passed on he might not be a spirit—"

"He's not dead," and now Tim did turn. He wished he hadn't. Dick wore the look that he despised: worry mixed with exasperation and hope, hope that was crushed down because Dick couldn't continuing thinking that Bruce was going to come back and pull them all together again, Tim hated that part the most.

His grip tightened on the object he was holding behind his back.

"He's not…" There was only so many ways his brother could tell him their mentor was dead, but it wasn't taking. "What can I say Tim? What can I do for you?"

It was a question that Tim had an easy answer to. He pulled out the cowl. Dick had never looked so afraid before.

"What are you doing with _that_."

"Showing you what you can do for me."

The fire crackled alive and blazing, but the room felt cold and dark. If he concentrated he could see the shadows forming around Dick and hear their quick whispers.

Dick didn't say a word.

"This is what you're meant to do. This is what you have to do until he comes back to us. You need to be Batman. You can't let his symbol die while Bruce is still out there."

Tim knew Dick was angry. Maybe at the sacrilege of it. To wear the cowl. It was more than just putting on a mask after all. Dick had done it before, but Bruce had been alive and there to guide him. He had permission and there was an understanding between him and his mentor. This was different. This wasn't playing in your father's suit; this was taking over his job and responsibilities entirely.

"That thing should be downstairs with the rest of his artifacts."

It was rare for his big brother to be so cold. Tim understood though. Tim knew he was asking a lot.

"It should be on your head, Dick."

"I don't do this anymore!" Dick exploded, not in anger, but maybe in panic, "I am not in this life anymore and I am NOT Batman. Batman died with him Tim, Batman is dead. Don't you understand? He's dead!"

"He's not," Tim said unfazed. His eyes locked with Dick's. The older man was moving now, not quite a fidget, but a release of energy. After this conversation if things had been normal he would probably take to the rooftops. Instead he would go to the gym and do quadruple summersaults and that somehow made Tim angrier than Dick's own denial. "But if we let everything crumble while he's away it will be that much harder when he comes back. You're being selfish! You need to do this."

"And why do I need to do this Tim?" Dick crossed his arms, now he was angry, finally angry and maybe Tim could deal with that better than the frustration and worry and pity. "Why can't you?"

"Because it was never meant to be me, was it?" And Tim wasn't bitter about that. No, he never saw himself as Batman and he had never wanted to be Batman. When he was younger he thought he would one day move on from this life, but after his father died and he was adopted he knew he never would, but he still knew Batman would never be him. He would be something different, similar, but not the same. The only one that could truly take on Bruce Wayne's mantel was his son. His _real_ son, not a demon who appeared from the dark who shared a bit of DNA. Dick was the one that Bruce trusted most second only to Alfred… no, even more than Alfred when it came to the Code.

Tim had never resented it like Jason had. He wasn't a child when he became Bruce Wayne's ward; he was a teenager who had grown independent and self-reliant and, while his father hadn't been the best father, they still had come to understand one another before the end. Dick had been Bruce's since he was nine, and Robin had chased away the Dark Knight's shadows. Dick Grayson had healed part of Bruce Wayne's broken heart, shattered from the death of his own parents. Tim didn't think he could have done it himself.

Tim didn't see Bruce as his Father. His mentor, partner and guide, yes. Someone he proudly wore the name of, yes. A fatherly figure, yes. He loved (loves!) Bruce as family. But Tim Drake-Wayne had once had a father, he had been a son and it's not so easy to transfer all of those feelings onto another person no matter how hard you wish it were so. Although it was much too easy all in the same breath.

Tim could only pity Jason. Greedy for love, but never to be loved like that, not by Bruce. It was easy to get jealous over. Maybe with time he would have had what they have, but his death and resurrection ensured that pair's estrangement. Bruce and Jason couldn't trust each other fully anymore. Not after the hurt they had caused each other. Not after too many lines were crossed and the Code was broken. Not after Batman didn't get there in time and didn't take vengeance for his fallen Robin.

But with Dick and Bruce… it's like they had found each other in the dark and clung swearing never to let go. Dick had needed a parent and Bruce had needed someone to love if only to balance all the darkness and rage he had gathered. Bruce saved Dick from becoming another Batman and Dick saved Bruce from becoming a monster.

That's what Tim believed.

"I'm not meant to be Batman," Dick said stonily, "He even said in his will not to put it on."

"He didn't know what would happen. The city is going mad. You don't see it because you close your eyes and pretend that world _our_ world doesn't exist. It does and people are dying because you refuse to accept your duty."

"It's not my duty!" Dick yelled, "And I'm not him, I'm not his copy! I'm not good enough to be _him_ Tim! Nightwing is as good as I get and I _failed_. Don't you understand? I failed and innocent people and beings were obliterated because I wasn't good enough! I only attract bad fortune in your world. I'm monster bait, nothing more than a damsel in distress. I'm Robin still tied to that fucking chair in the warehouse. I am not Batman!" Dick breathed through his nose and out through his mouth to calm himself. Tim would later notice Damian using the same method when he got angry and it would fuel Tim's own resentment because maybe he didn't see Bruce Wayne as his father, but he did see Dick Grayson as his brother and Damian was the problem, he was the reason why Dick was about to leave him.

Dick found his calm and said, "I need to look after Damian. I need to keep him away from that world. You be Batman."

"It rejected me," Tim looked down at the cowl. Alright, he was a little bitter about that as well. Maybe he would never be as close to Bruce as Dick, but he thought his mentor trusted him. Apparently not. He slowly looked up, "If you don't think you're good enough what made you think I would be?"

Dick was silently pleading for him to stop. Tim knew it. Tim knew that Dick was begging him right now to just leave it there. Let them move on. Pretend this conversation didn't happen.

Tim couldn't do that.

"Only you're good enough," Tim explained, "And if you're Batman you'll be here and we'll be able to protect you while you protect the city."

Dick turned then, maybe so that Tim wouldn't see his expression. Tim saw it reflected on one of the old clocks on the bookshelf though. Bitter resentment. It almost shocked him enough to stop.

"I can take care of myself Tim."

"I don't doubt that."

"Yes you do."

"I just offered you the cowl! You think I would offer you that if I thought you couldn't handle yourself out there?!"

"I think," Dick said slowly, as grimly as Bruce Wayne, "That you offered me the cowl to keep me here. To pull me back into your world because you don't want to be alone. Maybe I could be some sort of Batman. I think you truly do want that. I even believe you think I could do it, but deep down it's really because you worry, you've always worried. Just like Bruce," Dick turned to face him again. He smiled sadly, "You got that from him, you know. You get a lot of things from him. Bat-Family resemblance."

Tim felt slow ripples of uncertainty.

"You're trying to manipulate me and you don't even know it," Dick said softly.

Tim didn't know what to do. He wanted to deny it, but he couldn't.

He was Bruce Wayne's son after all.

Dick stepped forward filling the large gap that had formed between them.

"I know it scared you when I left," He said earnestly. "I was in a bad way after Desmond and I know you were waiting for me to come back. To be Nightwing again. You waited and saw that it wasn't going to happen. You're so sharp though, you got it right away, didn't you? It wasn't because I had broken the Code by proxy. It wasn't because I was afraid to fail again."

"It was because you realized you were a liability," Tim's inflection was dead because Dick was about to win the argument and leave him.

"If it was failure I might get over it and make sure no creature like Desmond ever touches anyone again," Dick nodded gravely, "And as hard as it was I've been able to forgive myself for forgetting the value of Roland Desmond's life and not protecting that life with my own. But people died because of my presence in supernatural affairs. I attracted him to me and just for existing I caused damage. It's funny. You and Bruce, you never seem to worry about if I'm capable of saving others, you're always afraid about if I'm capable of saving myself, but looking after one person is easy Tim."

"But you don't only want to look out for yourself do you?" Tim spat, "You want to look after him as well! You say you're able to protect yourself and then you invite a demon to live with you?!"

"He's not a demon. He's a little boy who just lost his father. He's like the rest of us."

"He is NOT like the rest of us! He never saw Bruce as a father! He'll never see you or me or even Jason as a brother. That thing was bred by Talia al Ghul for some nefarious purpose. He looks human now, but he's not Dick. He can't be harmless, not with his parentage. _You don't even like him_!"

"But he needs me and we can't stay here. I can't let him into this life for all the reasons you just said. Bruce always said the less Damian knows about the supernatural and his heritage the better. I'll tell him when he's old enough to understand and not a second later."

"You don't need to leave. You can stay in the mansion." He was desperate now.

"I have a job Tim." Dick crossed his arms defensively. He was moving back to the practical. Why was he moving back to jobs and money when they had funds enough for eight life times?

"A job you don't need! I can take care of you." There was no use denying how he felt. Dick was right, he did worry. He did doubt Dick's capability in protecting himself. He was terrified something like Desmond would snatch his brother away and that something would be Damian Wayne and Bruce wouldn't be there to stop him.

"I don't need you to take care of me." Dick had that gentle look on his face again.

"I want you by my side." There. He said it. "I know how you feel about the family business, but—"

"Damian needs me Tim."

Tim scowled. Dick was wrong. Why couldn't he see how wrong he was?

"You're choosing him over me." Because that's really what was happening here. Dick was choosing hellspawn over his own brother, "He's a stranger Dick. Not only that he's a—"

"Tim."

"I need you Dick."

"That's the thing Timmy, you don't."

It stung because Dick didn't understand.

"How can you even say that?"

"You've grown so much. You're an adult now, you don't need me looking over your shoulder—you don't need Bruce either, but Damian—"

"Has a mother, has people he can go to. He has his own family. Why is he invading ours?" Tim snapped. Why couldn't Dick see? He was in his older brother's space now. The room had been chilling only moments ago, but now it was too hot. Being too close to Dick was heady and Tim hated that. Hated that he had never gotten over that night at the circus. Was always forced to remember that devastated look on the nine-year-old's face as shadows swirled around him. From that moment on all Tim wanted to do was protect him, even when it turned out that Dick had been shaped into a protector in his own right. Dick was someone he always wanted to be close to. It made him feel weak and uncomfortable because sometimes it felt like being brothers wasn't quite enough.

"You know that's not true."

"You're really picking him over me?"

"I'm always gonna be here for you Tim, but we're equals. You don't need me to take care of you and I don't need you to take care of me."

"Is it a matter of pride?!" Tim knew he was lashing out now. All his careful plans and considerations were gone, "You can't take Bruce's help, you can't take my help?"

"I don't need help Tim! I can function on my own!"

"Bruce would want us to work together—he would want me to keep you safe while he's gone."

He would want you to be Batman. He would want you to be safe.

The two didn't have to be mutually exclusive!

Dick was frustrated again, "Tim, Bruce is dead."

"He's not!"

"This isn't what he would want Tim. He wouldn't want you to be so—"

"He wouldn't want you to take on the little demon."

"That's not fair Tim."

"He wouldn't, you know how he felt about him."

Damian was a shadow over Bruce's peace of mind. A burden. Bruce had to worry about the creature that his own weakness created. He never had to say anything. He treated the child like a dangerous experiment that had gone wrong. That had to be watched, but he was never considered one of them. He wasn't Dick, Jason or Tim, he was an other. Not of the family.

"He left Damian in my custody in his will Tim. He wanted me to look after him."

"What are you going to do Dick? You think you can take care of him, you? He'll overwhelm you." Now he was trying to hurt him. Belittle him.

"Damian's going to live a normal life." Why did Dick think that? Why did he believe the dark side wouldn't surface? Even as a human Damian was a wretched creature. Tim could only imagine what he would be as a demon.

Tim laughed bitterly, "When you fail, you know you're always welcome here with me."

"Tim—"

"Get out!"

He wanted to take it back as soon as he said it because he knew Dick would. His brother turned and quickly left the room. He paused just outside the door maybe thinking to go back in, or perhaps his loving ghosts were whispering in his ear, but he moved forward and out of Tim's sight. Tim yanked his hair in frustration. That had gone badly, more than badly.

He looked up, maybe hoping Dick would return, but he only saw the demon smirking at him from the shadows.

_I win._ That smug look told him. _He's all mine. You've lost him now forever._

Tim was at the door before his brain even registered he had moved. He might have hit the creature if not for Bruce's _Tim's father's_ cowl in his hand.  
He slammed the door angrily instead.

* * *

Alfred had left two weeks ago. A 'fact finding mission.' Tim wondered if that was code for Alfred was fed up with Tim's intensity to protect the city like his mentor once had. He was Red Robin, not Batman, but he could do the job. At least that's what he tried to tell himself.

He was alone in the manor with two thoughts rolling over and over to the forefront.

Bruce Wayne is alive and he would be able to fix all of this.

All Tim had to do was find him.

But he would need help.

"Kon? It's Tim. I need you guys."

* * *

So this is what's going on a bit before the main storyline takes place. Tim's called the Titans to help him collect ghosts and spirits and generate enough power so that they can find Bruce.

The last part of the story is an excerpt from Guardian only from Tim's perspective instead of Damian's.

I'd like to think that Tim views his relationship with Bruce very pragmatically and tries not to be overly emotionally invested when he already is.


End file.
